


habitual irony

by flailingthroughsanity



Series: recursion [3]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Disbandment, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 16:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10365069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: Infinity, recursion and exponentiation and paradoxes – manmade forever – and like all things manmade, it all comes to an end. Myungsoo, though, he goes on and on.INFINITE ends and Myungsoo deals with the aftermath.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The last entry to my 3-part birthday fic for Myungsoo. Just in time - so I could get started for Hoya. :> This has been a fun ride, writing about hope and moving on and I hope this ends the little series on a happy note.
> 
> playlist:  
> nell - sing for me

habitual irony (or the laws of infinity, recursion and redux)   
**FLAILINGTHROUGHSANITY**

* * *

 

Infinity, recursion and exponentiation and paradoxes – manmade forever – and like all things manmade, it all comes to an end. Myungsoo, though, he goes on and on.

_ INFINITE ends and Myungsoo deals with the aftermath. _

* * *

 

**EPILOGUS: post-infinitum**

“I think that girl is looking at you.” His mother comments quietly, looking at a can of ground coffee and reading the notes written under the printed art. Myungsoo sighs quietly, a bit to himself, and he nods (even though his mother doesn’t see it). He’s noticed for a while – after years of being careful, it becomes second nature – but like the days since disbandment, it’s still taking him a while to get used to not being so on-guard and observant. 

Pulling the hood of his jacket over his eyes, and although it is a useless gesture as his face is still quite on display, Myungsoo likes to think that he isn’t so recognizable now that INFINITE has disappeared from the stage. Yet, if the continuous staring from the girl by the cosmetics aisle (and the whispering to her friends, and oh great, now there’s  _ three  _ of them) is any indication, he really isn’t doing a bang-up job at it. Still, in some aspect of it, Myungsoo would like to think that he feels pleased about it somewhat, that in spite of their one-time fame, he still gets recognized, still gets whispered about and still gets stared at when he’s doing a grocery run with his mother. Funny, he doesn’t feel that way – he just feels tired and exhausted.

“Do you think it’s him? It has to be, even his nose looks the same.” A harsh whisper, a flurry of giggles, and his mother looks at him pointedly.

“Well?” His mother hums and Myungsoo frowns.

“Well what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Myungsoo. You know it’s rude to ignore people.”

Myungsoo sighs, staring blankly at the chains of coffee on the shelves. Yes, it was rude, and if this was three years back, he’d get an earful from his manager, but he’s not an idol anymore, hasn’t been in a long while.

“And I don’t think I would have raised such an impolite man.” His mother continues, voice still neutral, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent in her voice. In spite being twenty-eight years of age, Myungsoo still can’t bat his mother’s words away – knows when he’s lost.

He raises his head and smiles politely – it’s artificial, it’s the best he can go with – at the three girls and, yes, their squealing reminds him of an older time: running through the crowds, dodging tenacious hands and keeping his gaze on the path before him in spite of a thousand flashes from cameras around.

“L-oppa!” One of the girls shout and they giggle and Myungsoo smiles – that one smile taught to him by his coordinators, lips closed, no teeth, dimple showing – and they giggle some more.

“Good afternoon,” He says, bowing his head and they giggle again. Behind him, his mother continues to go through the coffee grounds and Myungsoo continues to smile robotically, pulling on years of experience.

“L-oppa, can we take a picture of you?” And as the girl – probably in middle school, judging by her uniform – asks this of him, her friend already has her phone up in the air and pointed at him. He’s about to say no, about to raise his hand and cover his face and he’s about to blurt out “Sorry, my manager won’t allow it” but, and Myungsoo pauses, he realizes that he doesn’t have a manager anymore, that his face is bare of make-up and he has a zit by his nose, his hair is unkempt (he did just roll off his bed an hour before) and he’s pretty sure his lips are chapped from the still-chilly March air. He doesn’t look or feel like  _ L _ , because L is chic and suave, L is made-up with black eyeliner and flushed lips, L dresses in high fashion and wows crowds with his handsomeness. Myungsoo is a remnant holding on to the past.

The question goes unanswered as the three girls take photos and he smiles robotically, not knowing how to respond. He hasn’t been this lost since INFINITE.

∞

INFINITE ended on, ironically, June 10, 2017. Of all the days and months and years, it had to be on that date and Myungsoo can still remember – and how can he forget? — seven years back, still on that same fateful day, standing on stage, facing what seemed to be a million faces and a million lights, half-singing (and half-lip syncing) to  _ Come Back Again _ , their costumes cheap and hand-made, hairstyles not as up to par as the bands coming from the more affluent companies – but, and one thing Myungsoo holds on to, is that he remembers doing his best, muscles and throat straining and he knows he looks ridiculous dancing, but when the song ended and their small group of fans cheered and clapped (their noise echoing in the large hall), Myungsoo remembers knowing what it was like to give his heart and soul out for something.

It’s been happening for a while, he’s noticed. Their sales haven’t been doing so well, they’ve been getting less screentime and even when their managers and producers do their best to buy them more slots on television (even on the internet), they were slowly getting overtaken by the newer, fresher groups. INFINITE hadn’t been INFINITE in a long while too: each of the members had gone on to focus on their own works, Sunggyu with his solo career, Woohyun and Sungyeol with acting, Hoya (Howon, he reminds himself) with his own tap on music and film, Dongwoo in theater and Sungjong being called in more to join sitcoms and reality shows. It wasn’t to say that Myungsoo didn’t have any of those chances – in fact (and he isn’t overestimating himself when he says this) it was usually him who got most of the invitation: to model for a new clothesline, or a new perfume; a role in a new series or movie; even reality shows still call on him as a guest host or a guest actor on it — but the roles were starting to get repetitive and even his fame as INFINITE’s visual was slowly losing its spark. Slowly, gradually – like the grains of an hourglass – INFINITE was losing INFINITE and everyone was starting to reach out for their own hooks, fastening themselves on to the shine left in the wake of seven determined boys, proving themselves as a force to be reckoned with.

It’s when Sunggyu says goodbye to the group and to the fans and begins his military service that INFINITE does end. June 10, 2017. All seven of them on stage, holding hands under spotlights – a position he’s been so familiar with, the smell of the stage, the sheen of sweat on the members, the airconditioning blowing on the fog from the built-in machines – and they sing their hearts out to  _ With.  _

They end that night, to the cries and cheers of a thousand fans in Seoul Arts Center (confetti and smoke and roses and cards), sweating under velour costumes, dancing to  _ Come Back Again _ – synchronized, flawless and in unison — and when that final curtain call came, he remembers feeling the warm tracks of tears on his cheeks.

It was the end of an era, an end of Myungsoo’s era, and in the post-concert haze, he remembers holding on to Howon’s back, hearing his heartbeat and feels the others congregate around them. They’re all hugging, hands tight and Myungsoo remembers pressing his nose against Sunggyu’s neck, forehead against flushed skin, and he remembers printing that scene – make-up stained, costumes wet with sweat and the laughter hiding the sobs –in his memory.

Their last performance, and maybe their managers may have planned something grandiose or lavish – a buffet at a high-end restaurant, an after party at a club or something of that sort – but what happens is them, INFINITE, all seven of them, on the floor of their practice room, and food is everywhere (on long tables, on stools and on chairs) and their managers, their coordinators, the make-up crew, the cameramen and even the constantly unseen guys putting their bags and their stuff into the back of the vans are there.

It’s both a happy and sad epilogue, and when their CEO, Jungyeop-hyung, comes to say goodbye – it’s the first time he’s ever seen Sunggyu turn red and teary-eyed, hugging their first ever fan (since the days before the beginning) and friend and, Myungsoo thinks, that was the hardest part of all.

∞

It takes a while for him to get used to it. He’s also pretty sure that it took a while for  _ all  _ of them to get used to it. The weeks following their official disbandment, a cacophony of noise broke out – a million mourning fans, farewell videos from their fellow idols, a run-down of their history on MBC and KBS, and the recurring question of “ _ What’s next? _ ” – and it was a nice feeling, in spite of the choking hold on his heart every time he thought about saying goodbye to seven years on stage (and three years off it). When Sunggyu started his military service, head shaved and looking older than he’s ever been (and Myungsoo remembered feeling afraid and protective, because idols in the military get the short end of the stick, used as pseudo punching bags and scapegoats for criticism, for going the easier route), the rest tried to hold on to each other as much as possible. Meet-ups at Woollim’s café, text messages running through the night, still being chased after by some of the more  _ enthusiastic _ fans and the occasional joking on someone’s Instagram page – but ambition slowly pushes them away from each other, Howon starting to get a bit too busy with his drama and films (and he’s become a great actor) and Woohyun and Sungyeol in their fair share of acting; Dongwoo getting more time in with theater and Sungjong with TV.

Even Myungsoo got a little bit busy at times, often appearing on TV as a guest actor, or going back to Woollim to feature in some of the pre-debut videos already being produced for the company’s upcoming boy group (and he remembers the days of  _ You Are My Oppa! _ and that crusty old dormitory that was more of a health hazard than a home). He’s proud of them, of Woollim’s new boys, and he smiles wide at Daeyeol and Sungyoon’s teasing, hugs Jaesuk close and agrees to a hang-out date with Jangjun and Jibum. It’s Youngtaek and Joochan, the two youngest, that Myungsoo feels a particular fondness for – and he recalls being one of the younger members, and the times he’s felt that he and Sungjong were the stragglers of the group – and when Jibum and Joochan would call late at night, sometimes running up at two in the morning, Myungsoo can’t even find it in himself to ignore them as he answers, listening to their doubts and fears and insecurities and he’s sitting up in bed, back against the wall, blanket over his legs as he recounts a thousand and one memories of the times he’s felt lacking.

Myungsoo doesn’t pride himself on being a guru or a mentor – he’s never even imagined he’d be one, regardless of whether he was a former celebrity or not. Ironically, he’s always felt that he didn’t have many life lessons to share. Sunggyu or Howon would be the better ones for it, and how could they not, when their life stories fit more for sharing to two insecure boys wanting to hold on to their dreams and what was Myungsoo but someone who had the full support of his family, the gifts of his look to land him in and maybe just right amount of luck – lucky enough to find himself riding the coattails of INFINITE.

∞

**Have you seen my new drama?** Myungsoo chuckles to himself as he checks his phone. Beside him, Byeol blinks her eyes open at the sound and changes her position on his bed, tail lazily flicking against the mattress. She was starting to get older, and Myungsoo’s taken to have her out for little walks to keep her in shape. He shifts his own position and types out a response.  **No. Why? Did you finally land a main role or are you still playing the second lead?**

Sungyeol’s response is quick.  **Fuck you. Shouldn’t you support my career or something? You’re supposed to be my boyfriend or something.**

Myungsoo rolls his eyes at the response, and recalls the times they’ve laughed and shuddered at reading the fanfics written online.  **Am I? I thought it was Woohyun…or Howon, or any of the other guys.**

And it’s not nice, but Myungsoo can now find the humor of those little things. Looking back, when they were still idols, he recalls how awkward it would make him feel – to have other people write about him, as him, like that – and he recalls feeling somewhat weird around the others, not knowing how they’ll take such material (written with good intentions, he’s sure, but not everyone sees it that way) when presented to them. His seven years in the industry has taught him that it wasn’t the pretty place they make it out to be on international market – it was like any business: underhanded, cheap and success waiting if you made the right connections — and he’s seen and heard fellow idols curse at fans, in the safety and secrecy of the backstage, when they would sometimes go a little overboard, if that is the term, with their adoration.

But, in retrospect, he can view it in a bit of fondness – recalling the humor in those situations, and how they would joke about it to each other and laugh and it would make it so easy on stage to pretend it was real – and Myungsoo’s smile starts to falter as he reviews Sungyeol’s text.

It’s been a year since disbandment, and although he’s still getting a considerable amount of invitations for appearances, Myungsoo hasn’t really responded to any of them. There have been some e-mails too, from people he’s once or twice recognized, offering to work for him as his manager and handling his role as now Kim Myungsoo and not INFINITE’s Kim Myungsoo but he hasn’t responded to those either. In fact, he’s gotten used to ignoring the growing inbox of his e-mail.

He’s even deleted the e-mail app on his phone and changed the settings to divert calls from unknown numbers.

Yet, in spite the offers to return to that life in front of the camera that he continually refuses, Myungsoo’s gotten restless. In a way, he doesn’t want to return that life – but he feels stranded, unsure and confused about what he wanted to do next.

He’s been staying at his parents, not wanting to return to his own apartment and to his solitude, and they’ve been happy to have him back to themselves after almost a decade but he still feels like he’s wasting time: his mother told him, one night, that he has the world before him and Myungsoo knows that – understands that – but  _ finally _ being free to make decisions for himself, after years of having it made for him, staggers him.

A buzz and Myungsoo looks down. **Ha ha ha.** **Anyway, what are you up to recently?**

Myungsoo doesn’t reply.

∞

He signs up for a photography workshop — just a 10-day session with a noted photographer — and he’s a little grateful that it’s just a one-on-one thing, because he doesn’t really think he could concentrate in a group that would probably recognize him.

It’s not the first time he’s revisited the thought of joining the workshop, it’s been open on his tablet for quite some time now. When he had brought it up during dinner, his parents encouraged him to join – and his mother had quietly told him that he’s old enough to make decisions for himself now, and he’s once again reminded that this was one of the first things he’s had the freedom to choose since INFINITE. 

Photography – that was always something he had a passion for. Even in his idol days, or even before when he was street-cast, it was always something he liked delving into. Taking photos, observing things from behind the camera viewfinder, experimenting in different light and speed – he liked the calm it brought, the feel of the camera in his hands and the whimsy idea that he’s framing time in his hands. Of course, being an idol with a penchant for things other than songwriting, it was also one of Woollim’s little exploits to sell him, and his group, to the public. It wasn’t that he hated the attention – he’s a little grateful for it because he had the chance to talk to other people who took photography and filmography seriously and he’s had the chance to release his own photobooks — but like all forms of attention, there were positive and negative aspects of it. With his release of his photobook, criticism flared online – detailing how he was lucky enough to have his works (dubbed mediocre and amateur) published because of his status as an idol, whereas more talented photographers don’t have the means to such exposure – and it hurt. Honestly, it hurt and it blunted Myungsoo’s confidence more  than comments about his inability to dance or act ever did, but (and looking back) he realizes that there was always a grain of truth in criticism, no matter how much he told himself it was unwarranted. The view from the top is great, yes, but sometimes looking up too many times means missing the ugliness down below.

He was lucky, to be an idol and to have those opportunities fastened to the title, and he can understand the criticism a little bit better now. He’s no longer an idol, and even though he’s still a somewhat famous person, such opportunities don’t hold fast anymore. L was beginning to fade back into the recesses of the old Korean pop wave, alongside a young group of seven determined boys, in a little dorm by Manwon-dong, slipping and laughing as they practice the choreography of  _ Come Back Again _ to the early seconds of four AM.

∞

“Ah, you’re Myungsoo?” The older man asked, and Myungsoo nodded. The other extended a hand to the seat before him and Myungsoo bows, sitting down. The café is on the more upscale district of Seoul, borders Gangnam, close by to Apgujeong’s ends, but the café by itself isn’t entirely too lavish. Myungsoo notes that it’s certainly not something students or middle schoolers can afford to be at, and maybe there’s something about that, why the photographer – Hyunsoo — chose this little hub as their meeting area. Although some of the customers do turn their heads when he enters, and he sees the light of recognition, faintly, in their eyes, no one attempts to approach him, and it eases him somewhat.

Hyunsoo looks about the same age his father is, probably nearing fifty, grey streaks by his temples, almost silvery against his raven hair. He has stern features, and his eyes are sharp and Myungsoo feels somewhat small before him, hands grasping his portfolio in tight fingers.

“Good afternoon, I’m Kim Myungsoo.” He says, finding his voice somewhat grounded (not displaying the uncertainty he feels). Hyunsoo nods, and crosses his hands over the table. “I brought my portfolio, so you can see my works.”

He places the black book on top of the table. Myungsoo expects the other to grab it immediately and run through his works – Myungsoo’s made the choice to include works from his time before INFINITE and his time during INFINITE, and yes, his works are amateurish and mediocre (but he’s placed a lot of heart into them and he hope Hyunsoo would see that) — but the man flicks his eyes towards the book for a second, as if noting its existence, and turns his gaze back to Myungsoo.

His eyes really are sharp, a dark brown under brows as if hackles in flight, and there’s a burgeoning intelligence in them, bright – as if he’s looking at every part of Myungsoo – and  Myungsoo can only handle it for a few moments before he looks back down on the table. He hasn’t felt this exposed since ever – and even the observant, sometimes too observant, gazes of their fans weren’t this introspective – and Myungsoo doesn’t know what to do, bare before it, not an idol or a celebrity, just Kim Myungsoo.

(He doesn’t know who Kim Myungsoo is without INFINITE, without L.)

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Hyunsoo asks, and his voice is gravelly and grounded, and Myungsoo returns to the present.

“Sir?”

“Portfolios,” Hyunsoo begins, tapping Myungsoo’s little compilation of works. “they express a great deal about your skills as a photographer. You can put down works that you’ve done really work, and works that you may need more development in. They can even, sometimes, express a great deal about the photographer themselves – and those are rare enough as it is. I don’t care about your portfolio.”

Myungsoo pauses, doesn’t know how to take in that last sentence. It seems like a dismissal, but at the same time, not. Hyunsoo continues.

“What are your dreams? What do you do? What do you want to do with your life?” Hyunsoo asks, looking at Myungsoo. “I care more about the answers to those questions than this little book, probably compiled in the hopes of impressing me.”

Myungsoo feels like he should flush in embarrassment , because that was somewhat true, but he’s gotten used to seven years of pretending he’s not embarrassed (at least, physically).

“I’ve had applicants and aspirants in this same place, trying to wow me so I would take them in. It doesn’t work that way. I ask them questions, ask them about their life and the things they want to do – and what I find is superficial: people wanting this craft for the fame, for the renown. Photography isn’t a one-way ticket to fame, it’s a life-long dedication.”

Myungsoo nods, understanding the words and what they mean. Once upon a time, being an idol meant the same thing. People would look at it as the easy way to fame, but they forget the commitment and dedication to it, the nights where he can only close his eyes for an hour before he has to open them again and get ready for a press conference, the days where he can’t even go out of his apartment without being stalked down the street. He can still remember, the exhaustion weighing him down, sometimes so strong he wants to give up, and he reminds himself that six other people were depending on him.

Six others in this little group called INFINITE, six others with their own dreams, own endeavors and own wants, and how could Myungsoo give up and disappoint those six others when they’re all doing their best, sacrificing much, just so they could get that one leg-up to success? 

It’s funny, because when he thinks about it now, it was no longer the fame, the popularity or the spotlight that kept him going in all those seven years. Somehow, it’s blurred and turned into this commitment he’s made to himself for six others. The spotlight may not be for him, and everything else attached to it, but he couldn’t disappoint the hopes on the other members’ faces – and maybe that’s why he feels so lost now, so restless:

INFINITE was gone. The others have their own lives to lead, dreams to chase – they don’t have to rely on Myungsoo anymore, and Myungsoo doesn’t need to keep going for them anymore and that leads to one thing: without INFINITE, what is Kim Myungsoo? Without Sunggyu’s brash and biting words, sometimes echoing in the room of their first dorm or in the static of his phone; without Dongwoo’s bright laughter or his rare comforting words, whispered in the quiet of a shared room, during times where he feels so down and tired he could close his eyes and sleep forever; without Woohyun’s advice, often grounded on reality, or Howon’s silent strength; without Sungyeol’s humor and Sungjong’s wisdom – what is Kim Myungsoo?

“I don’t know.” And Myungsoo takes a moment to realize he’s said the words aloud, and Hyunsoo’s eyes widen a bit – not in surprise, but in curiousity – and he looks less stern.

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’?”

And Myungsoo doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to express his doubts and his fears and the times he’s been in his own room, reading manhwas and watching the day turn to night outside his bedroom window. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does anyway.

Maybe it’s in the way Hyunsoo’s gaze is too perceptive, or in the way his questions brought alight the things he’s kept to himself for so long, or maybe a combination of both or none at all. He just does.

“I don’t know,” Myungsoo blurts out, eyes on the plate but not seeing the engraving on them as words too fast, too real for him to catch, floods out of his lips. “I don’t know who I am or who I want to be. I’ve been someone for so long, and now that it’s gone, I don’t know who I should be.”

“But do you  _ want _ to be someone? Otherwise, you can stop wasting my time.” Hyunsoo answers, a brow raised. Myungsoo’s ire flares.

“That’s easy for you to say!” And his voice kicks up a notch. “You’ve probably been who you are for so long, and you know what to do with your life. Congratulations, then. Not everyone is so lucky. We can be someone for so long, but when that time is over, who do we become? How can we make that choice when all our lives we’ve had to have that choice taken from us.”

Hyunsoo doesn’t react to Myungsoo’s words, and he feels his anger grow further. “I don’t have to take this, I—“

“I, what? Who are you, Kim Myungsoo?” And that shuts him up. “You’re not Kim Myungsoo, the idol. You’re not a celebrity, you’re not a boyband member. You’re not even an artist, or a photographer. Your time on the stage is long dead, you haven’t been in the spotlight for three years and now you’re here, in front of me, signing up for my workshop when you don’t even know who you are.”

The truth hurts, and Myungsoo can’t really hide the fact that the photographer’s words struck a little too close to home. 

Hyunsoo’s voice is still as calm as ever. “Why did you sign up for my workshop, Kim Myungsoo? I know it’s not because you want to improve your skills – you can do that well on your own. You signed up for my workshop for something, and it’s far more personal than some desire for a ten-session thing.”

“I…” and Myungsoo doesn’t have an answer – doesn’t have an answer that wouldn’t expose himself too fully, doesn’t have a response that would not be too honest, and he knows that Hyunsoo knows his answer,  but he keeps it to himself. He doesn’t know why, maybe he does or maybe he doesn’t, but it was too painful and too honest to say. He keeps silent.

Hyunsoo sighs, and Myungsoo feels the undercurrent of disappointment. He doesn’t know how to handle it, save for grasping the hem of his shirt tightly.

A card is placed in front of him, Hyunsoo’s name and contact details on it and the man stands. Myungsoo doesn’t look at him in the eye.

“Call me when you have an answer.”

∞

“You don’t have to do this, hyung.” Myungsoo smiles to himself and ignores the slightly abashed tone from the younger beside him. He turns to the other, canned coffee close to his lips and notes the features on Joochan’s face. The trainee is young, and when Myungsoo does the math in his head, pulls his age at tender nineteen years. He remembers starting off just as young, maybe just as hopeful, just as naïve and idealistic.

It’s twelve-fourteen in the morning, and Myungsoo knows that he should be asleep now that he has the luxury to sleep for as long as he can, but it’s been a week since his meeting with Hyunsoo and he hasn’t been sleeping well for some time. He’s taken to playing video games up at night, or reading – just about anything to keep his mind occupied. It’s running on Friday, when his phone buzzes up with a text ( **Hyung?** ) and Myungsoo’s had a thought and out of bed and in his running shoes before he’s taken the time to actually consider what he’s doing.

When he steps out of the taxi and walks up to Woollim’s main office (the receptionist ogling at him before stuttering and escorting him), he takes three flights of stairs instead of the elevators, paper bag in his hand. He doesn’t knock on the door, just opens it and it doesn’t even take him a second to locate the younger trainee, huddled by the window, looking small and out of place.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Joochan explains a little later, looking down on his pants. “I just…I don’t know why I did, but I just wanted to talk to you, I forgot what time it was.”

And Myungsoo understands, because he recalls the years spent training, from sun up to sun down to sun up that he’s sometimes forgotten that he’s awake when people are asleep. He sets the can down by his side, and looks around the newly furnished practice room. The décor is a bit alien to him, but the room feels the same. If he closes his eyes, he could imagine a much smaller room – black walls and vinyl floors – and bumping into each other as they practiced  _ Be Mine _ ’s dance moves. “What’s up?”

Joochan turns to him, and looks back down. “Hyung?”

“Come on, you can tell me.” Myungsoo says, encouraging (and it’s ironic that he’s being encouraging right now when he can’t even encourage himself to go after the truth). “Is someone bothering you?”

“No, hyung.”

“Then what is it? You wouldn’t have texted me if it didn’t bother you.”

Joochan looks up and at him, and Myungsoo pauses – suddenly seeing himself in the younger man’s place. It doesn’t help that Joochan looks pretty – with down-turned lashes, and lips looking full and pouty in the room’s dim light, light brown hair glowing – and Myungsoo may have an inkling about what was bothering the other.

“I don’t know if I can handle this, hyung.” Joochan finally says, and Myungsoo hears the weariness in his voice. “I blundered today, and the choreographer got so angry and the others got annoyed and I had to stay back to practice and get it right and, hyung,” and the other ducks his head. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Hadn’t he thought the same thing? Hadn’t he asked the same thing? Myungsoo knows that he did – a long time ago, in a different room, in an almost different life.

“How did you do it, hyung?” Joochan asks and he looks so young and so innocent, eyes wide and questioning, that Myungsoo suddenly feels old in his bones. He’s never really spoken about his own challenges, maybe once or twice in an interview (with a set of answers already prepared for him), and this would be the first time he’s had to answer it in his own words, out of his own thoughts. It’s daunting, and he has half a mind to keep silent, but the hope on Joochan’s face was too heartbreakingly fragile that he found himself answering, regardless.

“To be honest, I didn’t know at first.” He says, and his thoughts rewind, the years counting back to 2010, to sometime even before that. “It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever had to experience. I wasn’t used to any of it, really – wasn’t used to not having enough sleep, or not being allowed to eat more than what I should. I’ve never really danced in my life, and all the singing I ever did was in my own room but suddenly I’m practicing for choreography and perform in front of people and sing my heart out and, yeah, it’s terrifying.”

He recalls the first time they’ve ever presented in to a crowd, on a day in June, and he recalls his legs shaking and his hands deathly cold.

“There were times that I got so tired, and exhausted and down and honestly, Joochan? There was even a time where I had already packed my bags and I was about to run away and never come back because I couldn’t handle it.”

Joochan’s eyes are wide, hanging on to his words, and Myungsoo sometimes feels like a fraud when the younger trainees look up to him as an inspiration – but he realizes, he’s looking at himself as Myungsoo through Myungsoo and to someone like Joochan, a kid who has seen him on TV and on stage, he’s nothing short of a successful celebrity. The thought is strangely pleasing, and grounding.

“What happened, hyung?”

Myungsoo chuckles. “Honestly? Being an idol wasn’t for me, it honestly wasn’t. Looking back, I can honestly say that I may have made a mistake in choosing to be an idol – everything about it, the hiding, the lies, the bureaucracy, the spotlight, all of it weren’t for me — but the thing was, while I was sitting in my room, thinking about leaving, I had a thought.”

And he remembers listening to Dongwoo’s snoring, or the quiet, almost silent chatter in the corner as Sungjong talks to his parents late at night.

“It’s not for me, but for the others, it was everything. For Sunggyu and Howon, who had to go on alone, it was everything for them. To Woohyun and Sungyeol, Dongwoo and Sungjong, it was a means to getting their dreams, to providing for their families, to going to school.  Even I managed to finish school because of INFINITE, and even though it wasn’t a dream for me, it was a dream for the others…and maybe that’s why I held on.”

Joochan’s gaze remains unblinking. “They were your new dream.”

And that little insight of truth, from someone far younger than him, strikes him. “Yes…they were.”

Joochan’s eyes are searching, and he looks away. “That’s nice, hyung. Really nice…but I don’t think that would do for me.”

Myungsoo is quiet, and the other continues. “I don’t know the others quite well yet. I don’t even know myself yet, hyung. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

“Isn’t it what you want?” Myungsoo asks, and Joochan nods.

“It is…but I didn’t know it would be this tiring.”

The silence that ensues is a little stifling, heavy with the words shared between the two, and Myungsoo breathes out. “Isn’t that what makes everything worth it?”

“Hyung?”

“All the sleepless nights, the times you feel like you’re breaking apart, the times you feel so tired and exhausted from the expectations? Days where you don’t even know if you’re human, just something existing and doing what it’s told – those days that are too tiring that the only thing you can do to keep your head above the water is just breathe? They’re exhausting, sometimes incredibly so, but isn’t that what makes it all worth it?”

(The last beat ends, and Myungsoo strikes a pose, in perfect sync with the rest, and their little group of fans by the stage’s end screams and cheers and claps and it’s exhilarating, wonderful because they’re all here, seven of them,  _ finally _ .)

“Yes, it’s not for me – being an idol, the industry and everything – but the rest of them are: Sunggyu, Woohyun and the rest. Things are hard, impossibly so, but knowing that I can help in making their dreams come true – knowing that I’m also making my own dream come true along the way – makes me feel that everything I’ve ever sacrificed, everything I’ve given up, was worth everything I received in turn.”

(Howon is crying, and it’s the first time he’s seen Howon  _ genuinely  _ crying, and Myungsoo feels his own eyes sting because he can’t handle the shock, the relief and the joy on Howon’s face and he holds on to the other, arms tight and feels the other hold him back, confetti raining down on them as they finally,  _ finally _ win –  _ Be Mine _ playing in the background.)

“Yeah, sometimes dreams end, but isn’t the journey the best part? Everything you learned along the way? The memories and bonds you’ve made? The victories and losses? The times you’ve fought and the times you’ve hugged each other so hard you almost felt like breaking?  Isn’t that what makes everything worth it — standing at the end and knowing you’ve just reached the close of one chapter and there’s still a hundred more to go through?”

(The curtains close, the cheering and crying of the crowd remaining strong, and they all just stand – looking at each other – and Myungsoo sees all of them, in all the years he’s been with them, a hundred songs, a hundred gimmicks, from young to mature and he realizes, he’s at the conclusion of his own dream.)

The words tumbling out of his mouth, half hypothetical, half honest, and Myungsoo is hit with a realization, something drumming under his chest and in the wake of his memories.

“And just because that dream ended doesn’t mean you have to stop. It’s a good thing , then, because you can go out and look for a new dream.”

∞

Myungsoo is walking down the stairs outside Woollim’s head office, Joochan beside him. It’s a cold March morning, and he knows he should start heading back before dawn comes. He turns to the other, still finds his face troubled, but there’s a spark in his eyes – something that seemed like determination, perhaps an ember of it – and Myungsoo knows it’s a step.

“If you want to talk, you know where to find me, right?” He asks, and recalls a time, hoping for someone to have asked him that same question. At least, now, he can offer that to someone else – and maybe, just maybe, make things a little easier in a world that isn’t willing to be kind for anyone.

“Yes, hyung.” Joochan answers, and smiles, and he is beautiful in the lights cast by the Woollim’s bright sign. Myungsoo squeezes his shoulder and walks to the taxi lane, hands stuffed in his hoodie. He’s about to flag a taxi down when Joochan calls his name and he turns, only to find his arms full with Joochan, the younger trainee’s own hands snaking around his neck.

Myungsoo grins, never one to let this pass, and hugs the other back. Joochan pulls away, and smiles brightly (and Myungsoo sees himself in his place again).

“Hyung, don’t forget!”

He hums. “Don’t forget what?”

“It’s your turn to look for a new dream, now.” 

∞

It’s early morning when Myungsoo makes the choice.

He picks up his phone, goes through the contacts and finds the name he’s saved the day after that fateful meeting in the café but never had the courage to go through, and presses  **Dial** .

A ring, a click, and a groggy voice. “Hello?”

And spurred on by a courage he doesn’t know where got, Myungsoo speaks.

“I don’t know who I am. I’ve been Kim Myungsoo, a member of an idol group, for so long that I’ve forgotten what I want to be. It’s not easy, to make my own choice after years of having it made for me. I’ve had to settle with being okay with letting the world and everyone else do it for me, and now that I finally have that choice in my hands, I got scared.”

“Because it’s something entirely new and foreign and something I’ve never had the luxury to practice or experience, until now. When INFINITE disbanded, I had a whole world of possibility and, the thing is, that was just too bright for me. I needed to get away from it, I needed to be alone and I needed to get my head together because all this time, I’ve been operating on the idea that I’m a celebrity.”

He pauses, chokes but continues.

“I’m not a celebrity anymore. I’m not an idol. I’m just Kim Myungsoo and I honestly don’t know who that is. Maybe, before, I knew who he was. Maybe – when I was twelve, or thirteen, maybe in high school, before I became an idol — maybe, then, I knew who Kim Myungsoo was and what he wanted and who he wanted to be.”

Hyunsoo doesn’t respond, silent and the quiet pushes Myungsoo on.

“There was a time, you know, that I could remember who he wanted to be. Back then, when I was training, I had an idea about who Kim Myungsoo wanted to be – but I had to forget, or maybe I just forgot along the way, who he was because he had a new dream, and this new dream was INFINITE and making the other members, his friends – his  _ brothers _ – happy and he’s gotten so lost in that dream, that when it ended, he found himself not knowing where to go.”

“He was lost, lost for a time – and he didn’t want to be lost, but he had no choice because he had no idea how to start over after everyone had left him. He wanted everything to be the same, but then that’s impossible and everyone was moving forward except him and—“

And Myungsoo swallows, biting his cheek – because isn’t that what happened? His dream – seven determined boys – each walking out of his life and following down new paths, chasing after their own dreams and he can’t fault them when he made the choice to stay in place, watching them disappear off the horizon.

“—and I want to know him again. I don’t know who Kim Myungsoo is anymore, but if I can, I want to know him again. I want to know what he wanted to do and who he wanted to be. Kim Myungsoo is my new dream, and I want to get to know that. I don’t know if I can still could, or if I’m even allowed to, but if there’s any chance I can by doing this, it would mean everything to me.”

(He doesn’t have to let go anymore.)

  
  
  


 

**recursion: redux**

“I think we‘ve done enough for the day,” Hyunsoo says and Myungsoo nods, standing back up. They were just wrapping up after a little fieldwork they planned for the day, and Myungsoo couldn’t feel anymore happier as he packed his camera back into the bag. His legs were exhausted, and he honestly think he could fall asleep if he closed his eyes for more than a second, but nothing could ever replace that beat of exhilaration and adrenaline running through his veins. 

“So, are we riding or walking our way back?” Myungsoo asks, smiling impishly at Hyunsoo’s slightly annoyed face.

“If you can count on rolling down the mountainside as riding, then by all means, go for it.” And Myungsoo laughs, finds Hyunsoo’s sarcasm a little too funny at times (or maybe it was just the fact that the pristine photographer looked a little bit worse for wear).

“Hey, I only suggested we take up the scenic route, but no, you had to think of it as a challenge when I would have been fine taking the shorter one.”

Hyunsoo grouses. “Yeah, yeah. Stuff it.”

It takes a while for them to go down the slope of Seoraksan, especially with three camera bags and a field lamp, but they make it back down. When they reach a clearing, past the rocky boulders, and when the sky had gone from gorgeous amber to a trailing dusk, Myungsoo couldn’t help sinking down to his knees. “The next time I suggest we go mountain trailing, just do both of us a favor and shoot me.”

“Oh, I will,” Hyunsoo agrees, sitting down on the grass next to him and Myungsoo can’t find in him the energy to do more than weakly punch him on the shoulder. The older man turns to face him and Myungsoo looks back – at the streaks of silver in his hair, and that stern-eyed gaze hiding a much softer heart.

“What?” Myungsoo asks, and Hyunsoo shakes his head.

“Nothing…it’s just, you look different from when I first met you.”

Myungsoo smiles. “Duh, that was before I pursued “adventurous photography” and actually developed muscles.”

Hyunsoo laughs and shakes his head. “No, not that, you dolt. I mean, you look… _ happier _ . More at ease. Back when I first saw you, you looked lost and restless and down.”

And Myungsoo knows what the other is trying to mean, because looking back, he really was lost and down. But, and he remembers their first meeting (almost a year ago) and Myungsoo likes to think he’s changed for the better since then – since those days holding on to the past, chaining himself to his own memories because he had no better way to deal with the loss.

But meeting Hyunsoo changed that – and that talk with Joochan made him realize a few things about himself: that it was time to find a new dream, and even though that would mean putting INFINITE and his old dream in second place, that didn’t mean diminishing its value, or the happiness he’ll always remember.

“I’m better now.” Myungsoo says, honestly. “I’m not  _ there _ yet, and I still have my own challenges to face, but I know I’ll get there. I don’t know when, but I will, and I’ll do it as myself.”

Hyunsoo’s proud smile is his only response. Myungsoo takes a moment to stare at it, before he stands up and kicks the other in the leg. “Now, come on, let’s get out of here before we confess our love to one another.”

The older makes a face. “Ick. I’d rather you just start paying me for all the times we’ve worked after that 10-day clause in my workshop sign-up sheet.”

Myungsoo laughs as he runs ahead to the van, leaving the other in his wake. “Oh, please, all the new applicants I brought in because  _ INFINITE’s L _ was your  _ first  _ student ever should have made up for it by now.”

The sun sets on the Seoraksan ridge, to the continued squabble between the two trailing in June’s spring night.

∞

It’s late at night when they reach Seoul, and they leave their equipment in Hyunsoo’s office. The two agree on a time to meet a week later – for the photospread they were doing for a magazine, under both their names – and remembering the days he was lost, Myungsoo can’t help but be proud at where he’s going. The older photographer raises a hand in a groused farewell and Myungsoo rolls his eyes good-naturedly, watching the van turn a corner and fade into Seoul’s blinking lights.

He’s also starting his own car up and heading home, feeling the breeze of the AC and reminding himself of the laundry he has yet to do.

Seoul looks beautiful at night – towering steel-lined skyscrapers, awash with light – and he turns up the radio up. There’s some chatter about this new boygroup  cover from this old label and Myungsoo’s only half-listening, eyes on the road, when the radio announcer says a familiar title and a familiar beat comes up and—

∞

“Hey, let’s do our best, okay?” Sunggyu says, or tries to anyway, and his supposedly encouraging words fall short as the nerves get better of him and he starts barking. “Oh,  _ fuck _ , okay, so remember, Woohyun, you’re supposed to be on the left side, and Sungjong, it’s right foot to left hand and—“

Dongwoo cut in helpfully. “Hyung, I think it’s the other way aroun—“

“Nobody asked you! Now, Myungsoo, don’t forget to look at—“

“The camera. Yes, hyung, Myungsoo knows that.” Woohyun answers, annoyed, and maybe it’s that tone that keeps Sunggyu grounded because he’s smiling later, in askance.

“I’m a nervous wreck, aren’t I?”

A round of agreement has him frowning, but it’s all in good cheer and Sunggyu smiles a little easier later. Howon thumps him on the back. “Don’t worry, hyung. We’ll do our best. If not, then you and Woohyun just out-sing the haters.”

“Gee, very reassuring.”

Howon grins. “I try.”

The PD calls for them to prepare, and the nervous glint returns to Sunggyu’s eyes. “Okay, guys, let’s…just…Woohyun, help me out.”

A ring of unsure laughter has Woohyun grasping Sunggyu’s hand and pulling him close. “Breathe, hyung. We’re gonna do great, okay?”

A nod and Sunggyu smiles. “Thanks.”

Myungsoo smiles encouragingly at him when Sunggyu’s gaze flies over to him. The PD calls their name out, the curtains open and they are blinded by white light. 

Infinite white light.

∞

And as Woollim’s new boy group sings a cover of INFINITE’s  _ Come Back Again,  _ a million and one memories run back in Myungsoo’s mind. He lets a wave of nostalgia rush through him, as he hears Joochan’s voice along with the rest – and maybe he lets himself reminisce to the old days, singing his heart out (nasal but pure) – and he tells himself, fuck it, and sings along to the radio, voice echoing in the silence of his car, under Seoul’s moonlit sky.

Myungsoo will always hold on to that dream – will never be able to let go of that image in his head: of seven rowdy boys, a little too different from one another, but they managed to work, they managed to work together and  _ shine _ – and he smiles, knowing that an old dream will always make for a new one, and he’s on the way, reaching for that new light.

A beep and he flicks his eyes to his phone. It’s a group message, and Myungsoo smiles to himself.

**(06/09/2018; 09:43 PM) Woohyun: Hey guys, we still on for tomorrow? Howon promised he’ll kidnap Gyu-hyung from his girlfriend for our anniv tomorrow.**

Another beep. 

**(06/09/2018; 09:43 PM) Sungjong: Oh, they’re still together? Shouldn’t you be filled with jealousy, Woohyun-hyung?**

**(06/09/2018; 09:45 PM) Woohyun: Oh, shut up. Shouldn’t you learn to respect me by now?**

**(06/09/2018; 09:46 PM) Howon: Guys, I was recording on my phone. Thanks for ruining that.**

**(06/09/2018; 09:50 PM)  Sungyeol** :  **There’s this thing called airplane mode, grandpa. Try using that once in a while.**

The beeping continues, and Myungsoo smiles to himself at the little intrusion into silence.

**(06/09/2018; 10:00 PM) Sunggyu: Her name is Minyoung, and no she’s not my girlfriend.**

**(06/09/2018; 10:01 PM) Sunggyu: Also, what do you mean kidnap?**

**(06/09/2018; 10:06 PM) Sunggyu: Stop ignoring me.**

**(06/09/2018; 10:10 PM) Sunggyu: Wow, real mature.**

**(06/09/2018; 10:17 PM) Sunggyu: Honestly?**

**(06/09/2018; 10:20 PM) Sunggyu:** **☹**

**(06/09/2018; 10:30 PM) Dongwoo: OMG, Ily guys!!! <3**

And if Myungsoo laughs to himself in the echoes of  _ Come Back Again _ , and imagines all seven of them together again, for their little anniversary (the first one in years and he knows, he’s not the only one excited), he doesn’t mind. Some dreams fade, and some dreams become new ones.

And some other dreams are worth revisiting.


End file.
